Fortune, however, seemed to favor his assurance in invading the lions den. In the growing light the two men trotted smartly a mile down the trail without encountering a sign of life. When they approached the Morgan ranch-house de Spain again felt qualms. But he rode close to his prisoner, told him in restrained monologue what would happen if he made a noise, and even held him back in his pace as they trotted together past the Gap stronghold. Nevertheless, he breathed more freely when they left the house behind and the turn in the road put them out of range of its windows. He closed up the distance between himself and Sassoon, riding close in to his side, and looked back at the house. He looked quickly, but though his eyes were off his path and his prisoner for only a fraction of a second, when he looked ahead again he saw confronting him, not a hundred yards away, a motionless horseman.
CHAPTER VI HEELS FOR IT
While he spoke to Sassoon his eyes were fixed on the rider halted in their path. De Spain stopped half-way through his sentence. The figure revealed in the half-light puzzled him at first. Then it confused and startled him. He saw it was not a man at all, but a womanand a woman than whom he would rather have seen six men. It was Nan Morgan.
With her head never more decisively set under her mannish hat, her waist never more attractively outlined in slenderness, she silently faced de Spain in the morning gray. His face reflected his chagrined perplexity. The whole fabric of his slender plot
seemed to go to pieces at the sight of her. At the mere appearance of his frail and motionless foe a feeling of awkward helplessness dissolved his easy confidence. He now reversed every move he had so carefully made with his hands and, resentfully eying Nan, rode in somewhat behind Sassoon, doing nothing further than to pull his kerchief up about his neck, and wondering what would be likely to happen before the next three minutes were up. Beyond that flash the future held no interest for himhis wits had temporarily failed.
Of one thing he felt assured, that it was in no wise up to him to speak or do first. He could already see Nans eyes. They were bent keenly first on him, then on his companion, and again on him. De Spain kept his face down as much as he dared, and his hat had been pulled well over it from the beginning. She waited so long before accosting the two men that de Spain, who was ready to hope any improbable thing, began to hope she might let them pass unchallenged. He had resolved, if she did not speak to push past without even looking at her. They were now almost abreast. His fine resolution went smash overboard. The very instinctive knowledge that her eyes were bent on his made him steal a glance at her in spite of himself. The next instant he was shamefacedly touching his hat. Though nothing was lost on her, Nan professed not to see the greeting. He even continued to dream she did not recognize him. Her eyes, in fact, were directed toward Sassoon, and when she spoke her tone was dry with suspicion.
Wait a moment, Sassoon. Where are you going? she demanded. Sassoon hitched with one hand at his trousers band. He inclined his head sulkily toward his companion. Starting a man on the trail for Sleepy Cat.
Stop, she exclaimed sharply, for de Spain, pushing his own horse ahead, had managed without being observed, to kick Sassoons horse in the flank, and the two were passing. Sassoon at the resolute summons stopped. De Spain could do no less; both men, halting, faced their suspicious inquisitor. She scrutinized de Spain keenly. What is this man doing in the Gap?
He come up from Thief River last night, answered Sassoon monotonously.
What is he doing here with you? persisted Nan.
Hes a cousin of John Rebstocks from Williams Cache, continued Sassoon. The yarn would have sounded decently well in the circumstances for which it was intended, but in the searching gaze of the eyes now confronting and clearly recognizing him, it sounded so grotesque that de Spain would fully as lief have been sitting between his horses legs as astride his back.
Thats not true, Sassoon, said his relentless questioner. Her tone and the expression of her face boded no friendliness for either of the two she had intercepted.
De Spain had recovered his wits. Youre right, he interposed without an instants hesitation. It isnt true. But thats not his fault; he is under arrest, and is telling you what I told him to tell you. I came in here this morning to take Sassoon to Sleepy Cat. He is a prisoner, wanted for cutting up one of our stage-guards.
Nan, coldly sceptical, eyed de Spain. And do you try to tell meshe pointed to Sassoons unbound handsthat he is riding out of here, a free man, to go to jail?
I do tell you exactly that. He is my prisoner
I dont believe either of you, declared Nan scornfully. You are planning something underhand together.
De Spain laughed coolly. Weve planned that much together, but not, I assure you, with his consent.